


Moments In Time

by SquirrelWho



Series: Moments In Time [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Roselock - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrelWho/pseuds/SquirrelWho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman, inconsequential at first, but over time she becomes something more. Sherlock never suspected the impact she had on his life until she was gone. Rose and Sherlock one shots, over time, and the effect that may have had. Roselock</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pink

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of one-shots about how Rose may have found a way into Sherlock's heart over time without him realizing it. Not sure if it's going to develop into a more extended sequel or not.
> 
> In this series Sherlock exists on Pete's World.
> 
> This first one-shot happens during A Study In Pink.

There are moment. Defining moments that change everything. Moments that can impact a life so dramatically that they change someone. Then there are the more inconsequential moments. Ones that change another slowly. One moment at a time until they have changed without realizing it. This is a collection of Rose/Sherlock one-shots and how they might have changed him.

* * *

 

Rose trudged home. It was late, dark and she knew she ought to take a cab, knew how dangerous it was, especially the part of town she was in, but she needed a walk. She would probably find a cab eventually.

She sighed. She felt lost…alone…as if she didn’t fit in. Part of her wished her dad hadn’t shown up when he did. That she’d been sucked into the Void. Then maybe she wouldn’t have to feel like this. Feel like her heart was ripped from her chest. She didn’t even get a chance to tell him.

Noise to her right drew her attention. Her eyes fell on the skip. There was something inside of it…something alive. Her heart sped up as images raced through her mind. Cybermen, Daleks, Slitheen…then a head popped up. A man with dark curls of hair, dressed in long dark coat, blue scarf, and white button down shirt.

Sherlock glanced at the woman. Blonde hair, black trousers, pink shirt, black jacket, trainers. She was inconsequential. He glanced around the inside of the skip. The pink case wasn’t there. He growled in frustration. Third skip he searched. It had to be somewhere.

“All right there, mate?” she asked.

He seemed to be looking for something, probably something his girlfriend threw out. She remembered Mickey accidentally tossing something of hers out once.

“Yes, fine,” he dismissed, not even glancing at her as he climbed out of the skip.

She shrugged and continued down the alley. Sherlock watched her a moment, curious as to why she didn’t ask what he was doing. Most people would. His curiosity was short lived though, his mind turning back to the problem at hand. A pink case he needed to find if he was to solve the serial murders. He turned the other way and headed out of the alley.


	2. Graffiti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sherlock searches for other parts of the code during The Blind Banker he runs into the woman from the alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot happens during The Blind Banker.

Rose was on her way back to Torchwood after checking some suspicious Rift activity that turned out to be nothing. She spent most of her days at Torchwood, ever since Bad Wolf Bay. She told the Doctor how she felt and she knew he'd been about to repeat those words. That was enough to give her strength, hope. She had to find a way back.

She rounded the corner and saw a bloke, not one of the homeless she expected. He wore a long dark coat, trousers, dress shoes, and a blue scarf. Wait. He was bloke who was digging through a skip a few weeks back…or had it been months? She wasn't really sure. The days seemed to blend together.

Sherlock inspected the graffiti on the wall. Some of it had been painted over making it indecipherable. He sighed in frustration. In order to work out the code he needed more.

"I didn't figure you for a graffiti artist," a woman said, drawing his attention.

He shined his torch in her direction, making her shield her eyes. She wasn't one of the homeless. He dropped the light down, wondering what she was doing there. He'd seen her before…where? Blonde hair, blue shirt, black jacket, black trousers…then it hit him. A previous case. He saw her when he was digging through a skip in an alley looking for that pink bag.

She was smiling, but he ignored that.

"I'm looking for evidence," he replied, shining the torch around the area.

Evidence? She glanced over him. He didn't seem like someone who worked for the Yard, but then she hadn't been in that universe very long.

"What? Like spray paint cans? That sort of thing?" she asked.

"Why? Have you seen any?"

"Yeah, back that way," she pointed behind her, "Next to the tracks near the garages."

He hurried off in that direction and then paused, turning around. She was walking the way he'd come from.

"You should take care walking alone at night in this neighborhood," he warned, not entirely sure why he was saying it. He didn't worry about people. "Could be dangerous."

She grinned.

"Wouldn't that be something?"

He found himself returning her smile. Then he realized what he was doing and turned back. He needed to find that code and crack it so he could figure out who was responsible for the murders.


	3. Trains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets the woman for a third time at the end of The Great Game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at the end of The Great Game.

Rose wondered between the train cars. She needed a break after everything. A two weeks without leaving Torchwood, working on an idea that didn’t pan out was enough to send her round the bend. She saw him then. The bloke she’d seen twice over the past eight months. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that made her remember him so easily. There was something.

Maybe it was his strange behavior each time. Digging through a skip in the middle of the night and then inspecting graffiti the next. He appeared to be watching something intently.

Sherlock noticed her as she approached him, but he made no indication as he watched John talk to the train worker. He already solved the case, but he wanted John to get there on his own. 

“This another case or are you stalking that bloke for another reason?” she asked.

A grin threatened to surface, but he pushed it aside, keeping his eyes on John.

“I could ask you the same question,” he replied.

She laughed lightly.

“You’d know if I was stalking you.” He glanced at her briefly and caught the teasing smile. He blinked for a moment, not entirely sure what to do. “So, is he a suspect then?”

He glanced back at John, shaking his head to clear it.

“No…um…” What the hell is wrong with me? “He’s my friend.”

“Stalking your friend then?”

He gave her a sideways glance. Her smile was still there, making him glance away because he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. No one smiled at him like that.

“No, he’s working on a case.”

Rose’s smile widened, realizing what he was doing. It was something the Doctor would do.

“But you’ve already worked it out. You’re just waiting for him to get there.”

Sherlock turned to her then, not just a glance, wondering how she managed to work that out. 

“How did you know?” he asked.

She shrugged, still grinning.

“I had a friend…have a friend,” she corrected herself because she was getting back to him, “he’s like that too.”

He watched her smile slip when she corrected herself, which was just as well, even if a strange feeling of loss came over him, but he shoved that into a dark corner with other such sentiments.

“Ah,” he replied, wondering about her friend, but he turned his gaze back to John. “What about you?”

“Bit of a walk to clear my head. Been working on something and it didn’t turn out.”

“Something to do with your friend?” he inquired, glancing at her and catching the surprise. He grinned. On the money then.

“Looks like your friend’s close to figuring it out,” she said, nodding toward the bloke near the tracks.

Sherlock turned his attention back to John. She was right. He glanced at her to say goodbye, but she was already walking away. He turned back to his friend and closed the distance while John was occupied.


	6. Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock joins Rose for chips and uncovers more of her mysteries.

“So,” Rose said, sitting down at one of the tables with Sherlock, each with their own basket of chips, “Should I be worried about some serial killer lose in my building?”

“You’re building?” he inquired, having not made that deduction and wonder how he became distracted from realizing it.

She laughed and he found his scowl giving way to a grin.

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

“No. Mr. Corvan’s death was an accident. Tripped over his terrier-”

She glanced at him.

“Little white one with a brown patch around his eye?” she asked, interrupting him.

“Um…” he recalled an image of the dog. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“Awww, I liked him,” she replied, her smile slipping.

“Mr. Corvan?”

“Mitsey, Mike not so much, bit of a tosser,” She glanced at him as if she said something wrong, “not that I wanted anything like that to happen.”

He laughed.

“The terrier’s fine. I believe Lestrade mentioned someone picking him up.”

She smiled.

“Good,” she popped a chip in her mouth.

Sherlock ate a chip as they sat there. He wanted to ask about the device, but she’d been secretive with the diagram so he knew he had to be careful, least he show too much interest and make her suspicious of his motives.

“It works then,” he said after a few minutes.

She glanced at him, smiling in a way that told him she knew what he was referring to.

“Yep,” she replied, popping the ‘p.’ “We’ve run a few tests. It’s not strong enough to do what I need it to yet, but I’ll get there.”

“You need a stronger power supply.”

“Right, been toying with some bits and bobs brought in from…” She paused, glancing at him, realizing she almost revealed too much. “…another source.”

Not a lie, but he could tell she was hiding something. He smiled as if he didn’t catch her slip.

“That’s good then.”

“Definitely. Shouldn’t be long now.”

He watched her, mulling over her words. Shouldn’t be long until what? He brought up an image of the diagram, but found he was no closer to working out what it was than he had been before.

“Not long before you can use it to help your friend,” he replied, recalling what she said during their second meeting.

Rose glanced at him. Being evasive was one thing, but she was starting to consider Sherlock her friend, especially after he helped her and she didn’t want to lie to him.

“Actually, it’s to help me,” she revealed.

His brows drew together.

“But you said-”

“No, you thought it was to help my friend and in a way it is, but it’s more for me…well, both of us actually.” She turned her gaze to her chips, picking at them, but he caught the despair in her dark eyes and for a reason he could neither explain nor comprehend a stinging sensation shot through his heart. “I had this friend and we…traveled together.” A sad smile played over her features. “We spent two years together and he changed me. Showed me a better way to live my life, but something happened…” She glanced up, catching Sherlock’s gaze. The ache in his heart coursed through his body and although he couldn’t fathom why he was doing it his hand reached across the table to rest on hers. “We were separated, torn apart was more like it and I…I’ve been trying to find a way back.”

She was leaving. That thought was like a scalpel cutting into his stomach. His hand slid away from hers, but she surprised him by clasping it, holding him there. He glanced at their hands, his brows drawn together in confusion at the act.

“Then the…” he cleared his throat, glancing at her because the words had come out a bit choked. “The device is a means for your return.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how that could be, but she never lied to him so he believed it to be true. She smiled then, another of those bright smiles and, although he knew she was planning on leaving he couldn’t help the slight grin that surfaced. 

“Yes. That’s what it was designed for.”

“When will you go?”

She released his hand, returning to her chips. He couldn’t shake the strange sensation that made the chippy seem colder, even though his rational mind told him that wasn’t the case.

“Once I work out the power supply could do any day,” she replied, glancing at him and she caught the look he wore. She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. He glanced at her, confused and she smiled. “I don’t leave my friends without saying goodbye.”

He returned her smile. Friends. He hadn’t viewed his thoughts on her until that moment and he realized that, somehow, he’d grown fond of her. Her mobile chimed, interrupting them. She pulled it out, reading off the text. Then she gave him a look that told him she was leaving.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’ve got to go.”

He stood up with her, planning on walking her out, but she pulled him into a hug. This time his hands wove around her waist, holding her in place. Then she surprised him, something she seemed quite good at, by kissing his cheek and he was fairly sure in that second that lasted an eternity time stopped.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, pulling back and in the next moment she was out the door, leaving him, once again, unable to do anything other than watch her retreating form.

His hand, subconsciously, reached up to touch his cheek. He knew her first name and where she lived so he could find her again and he would.


	7. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets the woman for a fourth time. He finds himself both intrigued and confused by her. What sort of device is she working on and what is he to make of the way she treats him, which is so unlike the way anyone treats him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Belgravia.

Sherlock was walking back to Baker Street when he caught sight of her. She was sitting on one of the cement barricades. They were approximately a meter high, used to separate the park from the street, but she wasn’t gazing at the park. She sat hunched over, writing in a notebook. 

Curiosity got the better of him. He, silently, walked around the barricade and sat down next to her. She appeared to be too lost in writing to notice his presence. He glanced down, trying to get a look at what she was doing, but she paused.

“Anyone ever tell you curiosity’s what got the cat?” she asked, in that voice she used for teasing.

Rose sat the notebook and pencil on her other side where he couldn’t see the diagram. She heard him sit down, caught sight of the long coat she recognized from the other times she’d seen him. 

Sherlock ignored her remark, though the smile she turned on him when she met his gaze was more difficult to ignore, but he kept his face impassive, taking in the dark patches of skin under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. He recalled what she said during their previous meeting.

“Still working on the same problem?” he inquired.

“I’ll get there,” she replied with stubborn determination.

“Might help to have another set of eyes look it over,” he suggested.

Although he hadn’t been looking for her, he knew the fact that he kept walking more often than taking cabs was because he thought he might run into her. Something he would, of course, never admit to. 

There was something about her that puzzled him. Not only the way she understood why he was allowing John to work on that case alone, but also the way she looked at him. That puzzle didn’t begin until last month, after Belgravia, after The Woman. 

Irene had brought about feelings he usually repressed, but then she manipulated people for her livelihood. She knew exactly how to read people, pick out their weaknesses, and use them, not that he faulted her for that. It was something he was inclined to do, but the woman sitting next to him was different. She seemed to be Ms. Adler’s opposite, judging from what he knew, which, in fact, wasn’t much.

From the handful of meetings he could deduce very little because she had given him very little. Though, she hadn’t asked anything from him. In fact she helped him on that banker case, albeit slight help. 

“Might do,” she replied. He repressed the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’ve had the people who’re helping me look it over, but, you’re right, I should probably bring someone else down to give it a go.”

The smile that wanted to form vanished as his brows drew together. He expected her to let him see the diagram, but she was talking about having someone else look at it. People who are helping her? So, whatever she was working on she wasn’t doing it alone. He thought back to their last meeting. She said whatever she was working on was meant to help her friend.

“I would be willing to take a look at it,” he said, deciding on the direct approach, believing that she might’ve misunderstood his previous suggestion.

She grinned. He returned it, thinking she was about to reward him with her diagram.

“It’s not really your area, Sherlock.”

He paused both at the use of his name, though that wore off a moment later when he remembered John’s blog, which had gotten him more publicity than he liked, and at her implication.

“And what exactly do you know about my area?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion because she knew who he was, but she didn’t want his help, which probably meant she formed an opinion of him, as others had and he was about to find out exactly what her opinion was.

She bit her lip in a way that somehow managed to expel his anger and confuse him at the same time. Then she bumped his shoulder, which only managed to confuse him further as a feeling settled in his stomach, one he associated with flying insects.

“I’m not knocking you, yeah? You’re brilliant, you are.” She was right, he was brilliant. That strange feeling died down as his ego sprang to the front. A smug smile played over his lips. “You’re a genius at solving murders and finding serial killers, but this,” she glanced at her notebook briefly before returning her gaze to him, “’s different.”

His eyes traveled to her notebook. That need to prove himself rose up.

“I think you’ll find,” he replied, snatching her notebook and leaping off the barricade in one swift movement, “I’m brilliant in other areas as well.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed, jumping off the barricade, intent on getting her notebook back, not that he would likely understand what it was, but if he had even the slightest idea that could be very dangerous.

Sherlock looked over the diagram while dodging her. A device of some sort. The entire drawing done in pencil, bits erased and then new areas created. Had she done this herself? He lifted it up as she made a jump for it. She must have. It was impressive, the detail, meticulous. When he was sure he had the full diagram in his mind he stopped the game and allowed her to take her notebook back.

“You can’t just-” she snapped.

“Shut up. Let me think,” he interrupted.

Rose paused, quirking her brow. Let him think? Did he actually understand her diagram of the dimension cannon? That would be bad, really really bad, but then what if he could help? No, he was Sherlock Holmes. The world’s only consulting detective. She still couldn’t believe the man she’d run into three time, well, four counting today, was Sherlock Holmes and not a fictional character, but actually real.

She’d been having breakfast a few weeks back when she found out. Sitting at a table in Torchwood with Jake. He sat the paper down he’d been reading and she glanced at the picture. Then she paused, turning the paper around to get a better look and there was the bloke she’d seen rummaging through a skip, inspecting graffiti, and stalking his friend. Internet Phenomenon. She asked Jake who the bloke was and he replied, haven’t you heard of Sherlock Holmes? Once she stopped laughing she found out that it wasn’t a joke. The famous detective was real along with Dr. John Watson. Real and, at the moment, quite rude.

His eyes shot to hers with enough force to surprise her.

“You need a connector,” he said.

Her brow hiked back up.

“A what?” she asked, not entirely sure what he was talking about.

“Here,” he replied, stepping over to her and reaching for her notebook. She kept her hand on it as he raised it and indicated the diagram. “This is the power source.” He glanced at her and she nodded, not sure how he worked that out. “You’ve got wires connecting it to these two areas, but you’re missing one connecting those areas together.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh, my god! You’re right. You’re absolutely right!”

A smug smile appeared, but froze when she turned her gaze on him, a smile unlike any she’d graced him with and unlike any he’d ever seen lit up her eyes. Yes, that was exactly what it did. Wide and full of light and…beautiful. Before he could banish that thought to a very dark unused part of his mind palace she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him…tightly, resting her chin on his shoulder and still smiling. Neither his hands nor his arms had any idea what to do and he was fairly sure his entire mind short circuited because there wasn’t a single thought.

“You’re gorgeous!” she exclaimed and that, for some reason he couldn’t explain, brought his hands to rest on her waist, though his mind, for the first time in a very long time, since childhood most likely, was completely and utterly useless. A moment later she pulled out of the embrace. “I have to get back, but thank you! Really! I’m just…” she beamed. “Thank you!”

Then she was dashing across the street, disappearing from view before his mind began to function again. He stood there, and anyone who looked at him might’ve thought he was scowling, but really he was completely and utterly confused.


	9. Flats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sherlock runs into the woman while investigating an accident in her building and learns a few of her secrets including her name.

“An accident then,” Lestrade said, running a hand through his hair as he stood in the hall facing Sherlock while police milled in and out of the flat. “Are you sure?”

Sherlock shot the Inspector his best don’t be an idiot look.

“Unless you plan on arresting the dead man’s terrier, then I believe-” he began.

“Sherlock,” a woman exclaimed.

Lestrade, the officers, and everything faded into background as he glanced at the speaker, his eyes falling on her. He took in the black jacket she wore over a burgundy shirt, black trousers, and trainers, but it was her smile that captured him. She was the only person who ever looked at him like that and, unbeknown to him, her smile was starting to ingrain itself upon him. 

“Hello,” he greeted, turning to her as she approached.

He didn’t even notice that he’d begun smiling the moment he saw her.

“Hello,” she replied.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to say after the way their last meeting ended, but she didn’t seem to be one for awkward pauses because the moment she drew up to him she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him into another hug. His mind stuttered a bit, not as much as before, but he was surprised, though his hands somehow found her waist of their own accord.

Greg watched the display, both curious and stunned. At first he thought the woman must be John’s latest girlfriend, but the way Sherlock looked at her…he’d never seen the detective look at anyone like that before. It was as if she was the only person on earth. He knew that look, but seeing Sherlock ware it was…well, something he never believed he’d ever see. He couldn’t help the smile that crept out.

“I’m so glad I ran into you,” Rose said, pulling back to catch Sherlock’s gaze. “I was going to stop over, but I’ve been so busy with the…device that I haven’t had time to thank you properly.”

Sherlock gazed into her whiskey colored eyes. There were still sleepless nights, though not as many and she seemed lighter, happier. He felt a rare emotion surge through him, similar to one he received when solving a case, but different. It was there because he had a hand in putting that light in her eyes.

Greg watched the display, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to know just who this woman was and how she managed to put that look on Sherlock’s face…one that made him seem…human. He cleared his throat, that being the only thing he could think of.

Sherlock ignored Lestrade’s attempt to interrupt them, his hands still on her waist as she’d pulled back from their embrace, but not stepped away and something inside of him didn’t want to bring attention to that. The woman, on the other hand, glanced at the Inspector, turning her smile on the other man, something Sherlock found he wasn’t entirely pleased with.

“Oh,” she said, glancing from the man to Sherlock and back, realizing what she must have interrupted. “Oh. God, I’m sorry.” She stepped back. “You’re working a case and here I am interrupting you.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Greg said, returning her smile because it was the sort a person couldn’t help returning. “Sherlock’s already solved it. Only took him five minutes-”

“Four minutes thirty-eight seconds,” the detective corrected.

Greg glanced at him, but he noticed the smile the woman turned on Sherlock who returned her smile, but not with the smug one the detective usually wore. The Inspector smirked. There was definitely something there.

“Right…anyway,” Greg replied, looking at her, “I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

He offered his hand. She beamed, it was really the only way to put it, making him smile in return as she took his hand and shook it.

“Rose,” she said.

Sherlock watched the two, not pleased with the way Lestrade interrupted them, but then she gave her name, something he planned on inquiring about since their last meeting left him wanting to discover more about her. Rose. The name suited her. He paused, wondering where that thought came from.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Greg said.

The Inspector wanted to find out how the two met and exactly what they were to each other, but one of his men called to him. He excused himself, deciding to question John about the woman later. The doctor seemed to be the only one Sherlock confided in.

“So, you’re free then?” she asked, turning her gaze back to the detective after Lestrade walked away.

“I appear to be between cases at the moment,” he replied.

“Good,” she said, taking his arm as another smile he’d never seen before appeared. One that tucked her tongue into her cheek. “Because I was thinking chips.”

“Chips?” he asked, confused.

“Its afternoon and don’t worry I’m buying. ‘S the least I can do,” she replied, misunderstanding his confusion.

He chose not to correct her as they walked down the hall and to the lift. Sitting down to chips would give him an opportunity to learn as much as he could about her and that device he helped her with because he hadn’t been able to work out what it was for.


End file.
